


Colours

by FloreatCastellum



Series: Slice of Life One-Shots [49]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Time, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 20:44:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloreatCastellum/pseuds/FloreatCastellum
Summary: Victoire Weasley doesn't actually learn her boyfriend's name until she sleeps with him for the first time.
Relationships: Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley
Series: Slice of Life One-Shots [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1344409
Comments: 12
Kudos: 216





	Colours

She had never been to his flat before. The place in general was a mess, because he lived with other boys and it was small and all the furniture was slightly too big, but his room was tidy and packed with his sweet personality; she knew it would be. 

The small double was pushed into the corner, and the desk was against the window, the typewriter gleaming slightly, the stacks of paper and books piled around it. The walls around the desk were covered in little notes and tables and timelines; she wanted to read them but knew he was funny like that, so let her eyes glaze over them, instead focusing on the many leafy green plants he had used to try and brighten up the boxy room, hanging from the ceiling and lined up on the window sill, or potted on his shelves between the haphazardly ordered books. It was a little like walking into a very small rainforest. 

She turned back to look at him. He stood slightly awkwardly - slightly nervously, she realised. ‘I know it’s really small,’ he said. ‘And, really, if I’d known you were coming I would have tidied up-’

‘It is tidy,’ she said. 

‘You know what I mean,’ he said, his cheeks tinging pink. 

He was really very handsome. Not stereotypically so. She thought it most boys had the sort of shapeshifting powers he did, they’d all look like clones - they’d give themselves the big muscles that women never actually seemed to like that much, but men thought they should have, and they would all have thick dark hair and perfect, white smiles, and probably some designer stubble too. She was sure that Ted probably used his powers in that sort of way occasionally - he had never suffered from acne as a teenager, but why would you when you could simply morph to have better skin? And she’d seen at Hogwarts when he fancied Libby Burns he always seemed to be a bit taller around her, his features a bit more chiseled, his eyes more striking. 

But he’d never bothered to stop being lanky as a teenager, and now he was tall and lean. He’d never ended up making his hair perfect or even fashionably edgy - it remained casually rumpled, wavy, really, nearly all of the time, and he had willingly embraced all sorts of colours. She liked it best when he had it pastel colours, especially blue like he had now, and his seemingly preferred colour of bright, electric turquoise, but really she liked all of them because they were interesting without trying too hard. 

She stepped slowly towards him, and looked up into his handsome, gentle face, and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her, clutching her close, gripping her waist.

Until now, while she had been at school, everything had been difficult. They had been stuck with brief Hogsmeade visits, where the intensity of their snogging sessions in tucked away corners of the surrounding highlands might have led to something more, had it not been so bitterly cold. Not to mention Teddy’s constant worry that they would get caught.

Now, the reality that she was stood in his bedroom after a nice meal out seemed to hit them both. Her parents had been informed (rather than asked permission) that she would be staying over, all night. They couldn’t stop her; she was an adult now, after all. 

The kissing moved from gentleness to something more urgent, to something brimming with need and heat and months of built up tension and yearning. She pressed herself closer against him, and he stumbled back slightly, his back hitting the book shelf behind him and sending a plant pot crashing to the floor and a row of books slumping, but neither of them paused. She tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and in the brief moment that she broke the kiss, he pulled it roughly over his head, ruffling his hair gloriously, and seized her once again, his kiss burning beautifully against her lips as he cupped her face, and she pressed him harder against the bookshelf. 

They had waited so long for this; she had dreamt of it not just since that head-spinningly romantic declaration of love at Kings Cross but for years before hand, even when she had thought she had preferred others. She had disregarded it as a silly but persistent crush that had not gone away, and she had not placed any significance on the hazy fantasies and dreams she had in the twilit hours where she struggled to drift off to sleep, or the uncontrollable daydreams that burst into her head in boring classes. She had not, even, thought much about the way she had so often wished that Martin had more colour about him, nor even the time she had slept with him for the first time, and miserably thought that Teddy would probably have been more considerate of her significant discomfort. 

But now her breaths were becoming strangely deeper and shallower at the same time, or maybe it was simply louder, and she was pulling off her blouse too, and fumbling with his belt as he moaned slightly into her mouth and ran his fingers over the delicate lace of her bra. 

She reached her hand into his trousers and gripped him firmly; he gasped slightly and moved his kiss along her jaw and onto her neck, murmuring her name, still running his hands hungrily over her. 

It was like an innate instinct; she did not think about what she was doing as she dropped down onto her knees, grinned up at him, and took him into her mouth. 

The buckle of his belt tapped against the side of her face slightly, and her knees ached almost at once, but it was worth it for the long, low groan he made and the slight thud she heard as he tilted his head back onto the bookshelves. His hands caressed her head; he did not grip it or push it or anything fierce at all, because of course he didn’t, but she felt a rush of pleasure as his fingers ran through her hair.

He was murmuring her name again, and somehow the sound of it, or perhaps the way he was looking down at her, made her moan around him too. He swore, and one hand leapt to the bookshelf to steady himself against it, sending more books and an empty ink well tumbling to the floor. 

Suddenly he was pulling her up to standing again (as much as she had been enjoying it, she was glad, for the floorboards really were quite uncomfortable), and kissed her again, the fiery excitement fuelling desperate, rushing movements from them both. 

‘Ted - Teddy-’ she gasped between kisses, breathy whispers that she barely thought about as she ran her hands through his hair and felt him grasp at her with urgency, his hands leaping from her breasts to her waist to cup her jaw, then back down and onto her bum, pushing up her skirt before fumbling over the zip and finally discarding it entirely. ‘Yes - Teddy-’

‘Edward,’ he muttered quickly in a brief second as they broke apart. 

‘W-what?’ 

‘My name - my full name,’ he whispered, ducking his head to kiss her again. 

‘Teddy’s short for Edward?’ she exclaimed, and she wasn’t sure if she was dizzy from the intense kissing or the staggering revelation that she didn’t know her boyfriend’s proper name.

‘Yes,’ she heard him whisper in a half-laugh, grinning against her mouth as he walked her backwards towards his bed. She felt it hit the back of her legs and she pulled him down with her

She was glad that she had planned it this way, and she was glad that before the end of term she had had the foresight to order particularly expensive lingerie from the boutique her French cousins had recommended. It meant that she could lie there, draped elegantly across his bedsheets, as he gaped down at her for a moment, his eyes roving over the black lace and her porcelain, occasionally freckled skin. She had never felt sexier, she had never felt so alluring. She could admire him, too - whether it was that he deliberately morphed to look like that or because he exercised, she had always admired his lean chest, the way there was the hint of muscle definition, still skinny but toned, that delightful ‘V’ that vanished down into his undone jeans. 

He gave another, slightly strangled moan, and leaned back down to her, peppering her with a trail of wet kisses, running his hand up her thigh as she looped it around his waist and they both, instinctively, moved their hips together. She took her bra off herself - she found Teddy’s clumsiness endearing most of the time, but quite frankly she was eager to be rid of the damn thing as soon as possible. He was immediately at her breasts, caressing and kissing and achingly gently grazing with his teeth. 

‘Edward…’ she breathed, and she found it came naturally to her, rolled off her tongue with ease. His kisses trailed lower and lower, and she realised with faint surprise that he was following the constellation of freckles that occasionally adorned her body, leaving her not with the explosion of dappled brown and ginger of her father’s family, nor the pure, smooth perfection of her mother’s, but something in between, and something that Teddy, apparently, liked. 

Then he was kissing along the band of her lace pants, and she raised herself slightly so that he could slip them off. ‘Is this OK?’ he asked, pausing slightly. 

‘Yes,’ she said, panting heavily. ‘Yes.’ 

He continued, and she felt his hands slide smoothly down her long legs, taking his time to drag the lace down, letting his palms run against her skin. 

And then, with another look that seemed to question her permission before she nodded, he was gently pulling one leg onto his shoulder, pressing her thigh against the side of his head, and causing her such unimaginable pleasure that she couldn’t help but loudly cry out. 

She would never have imagined that a man so clumsy and unsure of his own body would be so nimble and deliberate with his tongue and clever with his fingers, nor would she have imagined that her own body would respond to anything like this. She flitted between running her hands through his gloriously blue hair and throwing them above her head to grip helplessly at the pillow, trying not to writhe and buck her hips, calling out incomprehensibly, sinking into oblivion. Then finally she was trembling and her legs were seemingly pulling themselves up around his head and she was seeing stars. 

He kissed her inner thigh and up onto her hip as he let her catch her breath. ‘Edward,’ she whispered faintly, staggered and impressed and feeling surprisingly emotional. ‘Edward…’ 

‘You’re amazing,’ he mumbled. ‘Beautiful… you’re so beautiful, Victoire.’ 

‘Please,’ she said. ‘Please.’ 

‘Are you sure?’ 

‘Of course I am.’ 

He rose, and shifted himself up, and kissed her again. She was full of a burning, grasping need, so she reached down and guided him; he shuddered and moaned as she rubbed his tip against her slightly.

He was gentle, at first, though he didn’t need to be, and she got the sense that it was partly so he could savour it, for he looked passionately into her eyes as he did and whispered that he loved her, and she whispered it back. His hair, she realised in awe, was rippling; it was neither pastel blue nor electric blue nor vibrant pink, but all of them, and more, sliding and shifting from one colour to another beneath her fingertips in a hypnotic display of pure happiness. 

But then soon that urgency was back, that heat, and they were moving together faster and faster, the bed creaking, Victoire moaning and crying out loudly, Teddy gasping and panting, his hair still changing constantly. They had wanted each other too long, too much, to worry any longer about romanticism; she burned beneath him, her nails scratching lightly down his back. 

She couldn’t say how long it continued; he kept her so surrounded in pleasure that she lost all sense of time. But eventually he tensed and seemed to pause with a low grunt, collapsing onto her slightly. ‘Vic…’ he moaned. 

They were both breathing heavily, more exhausted than they had realised they were making themselves, both of them glistening with sweat as they rested their foreheads against one another. He stayed inside her for a few moments, apparently enjoying the way she trailed her fingers down his spine. 

‘I love you,’ he said. 

‘I love you too. That was… you’re incredible.’ 

He grinned, and raised a hand to press against her cheek, his thumb gently rubbing. ‘You are,’ he said. 

‘Why did you want to be called Edward?’ she asked him sleepily ten minutes later, her voice low and mumbling. His fingers were still tracing the dip of her waist. 

‘That’s my name,’ he mumbled back, and she knew he probably had his eyes closed. 

‘She tutted. ‘You know what I mean.’ 

‘I don’t know, Teddy’s a… I like being called Teddy but it’s a family thing - a kid thing. Certain situations just call for a name that only a few people can say.’ 

She giggled slightly against his chest. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t know - in my defence I have never heard you be called that.’ 

‘I usually only get called it when I’m really in trouble,’ he said, and she could hear his grin. ‘And you can’t start calling me it normally - I think Al and Lily still think I’m called Tedbert.’ 

She burst out laughing, and she could feel him trembling with laughter too, and pulling her closer slightly, and pressing his lips against her dewy forehead. ‘The rest of the time I still prefer Ted,’ he assured her.

‘Your hair kept changing colours, you know,’ she said softly. 

‘Did it? Ah, fuck, sorry.’ 

She laughed. ‘I liked it.’ She shifted up to look at him in the darkness, and grinned. ‘There’s no one quite like you, Teddy.’


End file.
